


Nights are for Spying

by ASwornStark



Series: Nights are for Wolves [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya and Gendry get CAUGHT, Caught, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Jon's POV, Mentions of Sex, PWP without Porn, Red Handed, mentions of cunnilingus, or wet mouthed, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 18:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18878788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASwornStark/pseuds/ASwornStark
Summary: Lately, Arya was absolutely cheerful. She laughed with her siblings easily and smiled at feasts and stopped when she found young children learning to swing swords to give them advice. It made Jon curious what had put her in such a mood. It wasn’t that Arya had ever been cruel, but she was regularly reserved and seemed hell-bent on remaining contrary to whoever she was speaking with. With this normalcy shed, Jon grew more and more inquisitive.(Or the one where Jon finds out.)





	Nights are for Spying

**Author's Note:**

> Iz here!  
> I have not been replying to comments because I've been busy but I have been reading some of them and I saw some people say they wanted a sequel to nights are for you. I had a whole afternoon to write this and I don't know how good it is, but hope you like it. A Sansa POV will come next. Also haha I don't even know how to tag non-smut works so if I miss anything you can let me know.

Jon had known Arya for almost her whole life.

He’d been just outside the door when she was born. When Robb got to visit her the next day with little Sansa curled in his arms, Ned had ushered him in quickly too. Lady Stark had been in high spirits and had smiled at him that day, letting him get in close to peer down at the sweet little face of the future Nightslayer. Arya had taken one look at all of the onlookers crowded around her and let loose a wretched shriek. Her face became wrinkled and scowl-y and mean. From then on, Jon knew that Arya would be just as prickly as she’d been for the past eight and ten years. She’d never disappointed his expectations.

Throughout her childhood, Arya was sarcastic and moody. She did most anything begrudgingly, especially when it was her mother who asked it of her. From needlework to holding her fork a certain way, Arya was always resistant. Jon loved her dearly and she had a soft spot for him, of course, but she was a piece of work.

Until the last few weeks.

Lately, Arya was absolutely cheerful. She laughed with her siblings easily and smiled at feasts and stopped when she found young children learning to swing swords to give them advice. It made Jon curious what had put her in such a mood. It wasn’t that Arya had ever been cruel, but she was regularly reserved and seemed hell-bent on remaining contrary to whoever she was speaking with. With this normalcy shed, Jon grew more and more inquisitive.

This led to him following her around on a cool winter’s evening, instead of retiring to his chambers. He was meant to check in on Daenerys, who was feeling slightly ill, but he decided that could wait. When they had finished eating and the Starks parted ways, Jon waited for Arya to leave the castle before following on quiet feet.

Most of her late evening was spent in the training yard. Arya seemed to always have Needle in her hand, so this didn’t surprise Jon at all. For a few hours, she slashed and prodded at a straw dummy that someone had stuck in the ground. Jon was beginning to think he might let the issue rest right then, but as the blueish darkness retreated into black, she sheathed her sword at her belt. He followed her along until he saw her walk into the forge.

 He stilled for a moment, thinking hard. It made sense that she would come here, he reasoned.  With a war against the dead looming, she must have had need of weapons. Nonetheless, he waited a few minutes before he followed her through the heavy doors.

Once inside, he was alone in a dimly lit hallway. The place was quiet, as most of the workers had likely gone home for the evening. Jon wasn’t quite sure where to go until he heard Arya laugh. She was speaking to someone who answered with a laugh of his own. Jon recognized it as Gendry the blacksmith, and he had to stop to think again. Why were Arya and Gendry together this late at night? Then the realization hit him—

They’d travelled together years ago. _Of course_ they were chummy after all that time spent in each other’s company!

Not wanting to give himself away, he began to step back towards the doorway. He really didn’t want to tell Arya that he’d been spying on her. However, as he made to open the forge doors, he heard a sharp gasp, and then another. It sounded like Arya was…panting? Putting his mind to use again, Jon furrowed his brow. If Arya came to the forge late at night, to visit her friend Gendry, and began breathing very hard…that must mean…

Of course.

She was training with the blacksmith! She must have been getting ready for the battle with an old friend. It was all that made sense. And no wonder she was in such a good mood. Fighting always made Arya feel alive and she got to spend time with her old friend Gendry to top it off.

Congratulating himself for having figured it out, Jon decided to take a quick peek at his little sister while she practiced. He was always astounded by how well she fought. The lessons that Syrio Forel had given her had truly paid off. When he leaned his head just around the corner he froze.

Because Arya was _not_ training.

He whipped his head back as a loud growl escaped his little sister. Holding a hand against his mouth, he stumbled as quietly as he could out of the forge and started stalking his way towards the castle. Jon kept shaking his head violently, but this could not rid the image in his mind of Arya on her back across a table, bare legs splayed out over Gendry’s shoulders. The older man—the _far too old_ older man—had his head buried between her thighs, his face mostly obscured by the long black vest Arya wore. She’d been loud in the empty room, moaning and panting like she was…well…

Suddenly Jon stopped in the snow. Should he have stopped it? Should he have barged in and thrown Gendry off of her? He thought about turning back but then he knew how stupid that would be. Arya would just as soon kill him if he let her know he’d been prying. No, it wouldn't do to get involved directly.

Instead, he stomped back to the castle and right up to the chambers of someone he believed could help.

Sansa opened the door for him in a thick dressing gown and folded her arms across her chest. Her hair was braided loosely down her back and it was clear that she’d been trying to sleep what with her rumpled sheets. “I’m trying to get some rest, Jon. I _still_ haven’t found a way to feed two armies with only—”

“Are you aware that Arya’s fucking the blacksmith?”

Sansa’s eyes widened as she visibly recoiled at his language and his information. “ _What?”_

Jon rubbed a hand across his face, leaning against the wooden door like he was far older than his years. “Gendry Waters. He’s one of the men I brought with me when I came back.”

“Waters?” Sansa tilted her head curiously as she plopped down on her bed. “He’s a bastard?”

“Aye. Robert Baratheon’s.” His father sparked a look of interest in Sansa’s eyes and he said, “And don’t even think about it!”

Sansa rolled her eyes at him. “Alright, fine—wait…how do you know that they’re…ah…”

Blushing, Jon shrugged his shoulders. “I may have followed her down to the forge.”

“Oh, _Jon.”_

“What? I was worried about her. And with good reason! She’s fucking some blacksmith!”

“You’re the one who brought him home,” she pointed out stiffly.

“ _What are we going to do?”_

Sansa paused for a moment, gaze flicking to the ceiling as she let out a loud breath. “I’ll speak to her tomorrow. I need to think of what to say, but I’ll make the time. For Arya.”

“Should I—”

She held up a hand as she got to her feet. “You’ve done enough.”

“But Sansa—”

“Jon,” she snapped, “go to sleep. Go check on _the queen_ and then go to sleep.”

She practically shoved him out the door by his shoulder. As Jon turned back to offer a goodbye, he was met with only the sight of her door. Shaking his head, he muttered “I was just trying to help…”

On the other side, Sansa leaned her back against the rough wooden frame, eyes closed. She rubbed her forehead tiredly and tried to think of what to do next, but she was still having trouble fathoming what she’d just been told. Resigned, she turned back to her bed and fell into it, wishing Jon had kept his nose out of her little sister’s business, if only so that she would have one less thing to worry about.

Then again, Jon had been disappointing her a lot, as of late.


End file.
